This Can't Be Happening
by Beregond5
Summary: G1. AU. What if some things were played out differently? Warning: Character Deaths.


The mech was lost in a dreamless slumber, after collapsing in his berth in a wish to forget the accursed Decepticon attack that had happened earlier on. He had spent the entire day struggling to keep his friends alive, only to end up holding their hand and whisper some meaningless words of comfort as they slowly slipped away into eternal sleep. And as they off-lined permanently one by one, he'd just curse his own inability, and direct his gaze to the heavens as though to ask Primus _why_ his knowledge just wasn't enough to save them this time; for he _always_ saved them before.

That was why they, _all _of them, trusted him with their lives.

That is, until now. The Decepticons made sure of that.

A piercing sound made him stir – the sound of an incoming transmission.

_No. No more_, he thought despairingly. He covered his optics with his left arm, hoping that whoever it was who called him would take a hint and give it up.

They didn't. And so, as he turned on his berth, he activated the transmitter on his right arm.

"Go ahead," he said tiredly.

"It's me."

The mech tensed and sat up, for he recognised the voice on the other end of the link. "Please don't tell me there's another attack in the Autobot City."

"No… nothing like that."

The mech allowed himself a sigh of relief. "Then what is it?"

"You'd better get down here."

Down there… the medic knew _exactly_ where 'down there' was. And that was why he didn't like this piece of news one bit.

"What's wrong?"

"He found out - about the shuttle."

The medic's spark felt almost like it extinguished at that moment, for he understood what _that _meant.

_Damn it._

"I'm on my way." And with that, the red and white mech stood up and hurried out, without even bothering to lock his dorms; then transformed and drove off as fast as he could.

* * *

It didn't take the medic long to reach the entrance of the building that was currently housing so much death inside. What was more, he could already see someone waiting for him by the entrance, pacing up and down nervously as he did so.

The medic recognised him at once. After all, it was only natural for his best friend to wait for him after sending that transmission. And so the medic transformed and walked up to him.

"Where is he?" he asked.

"Inside," the other mech replied. "I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen."

The medic shook his head, for he wasn't surprised in the least.

"All right," he said. "You can go; I'll take it from here."

"Are you sure?" the other mech asked, his tone indicating his concern.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay." And with that, the other mech turned to leave. However, the medic's next words stopped him on his tracks.

"Thank you, by the way."

If the mech had lip components, they would have tugged to an embarrassed smile.

"You're welcome," was all he said, and then he walked away, leaving the medic on his own.

That was also the medic's cue to finally enter the building and walk down to the main room. The room in which the Autobots that had died on that accursed surprise attack just this morning were lying until they would be finally put in their final resting place.

Darkness surrounded him, yet the medic didn't bother to turn on the light. He couldn't find it in his spark to do that, for it would feel like he was intruding.

And besides, he could see the _living_ Datsun's outline, door panels and all, in the centre of the room. He was standing by a particular berth where another, similar mech was lying, and he was holding gently in his white hands a hand that was once white too.

"How did it happen?"

The voice was so low that the medic barely heard it. He was surprised that the Datsun had realised he wasn't alone anymore, of course, but the medic knew that that wasn't the time or the place to wonder about it. Now it was time to give some answers.

He walked up to the Datsun's side and looked at the motionless form on the berth. Before realising it, he caressed the formerly red chevrons that adorned the helm.

And then, he finally answered.

"The wound has the Decepticons' signature all over it. The blaster pierced the headlight and ruptured the main energon pump to his laser core, making the spark extinguish." He looked at the living Datsun's crestfallen face. "It was instant death. He didn't suffer."

Though the Datsun nodded slightly in acknowledgement, he didn't return his friend's gaze. He remained staring at the expressionless features, now blackened as the grip of death left its mark. And before he could help it, he reached for the dead one's visage with trembling fingers, tracing every detail of it as though committing it to memory.

"I'm so sorry… I-I'm…"

That soft, broken tone undid the medic. He bowed his head and closed his optics, biting his lower lip in an attempt to compose himself.

"Prowl… don't…"

But the tactician didn't heed Ratchet's words. Still gripping Bluestreak's lifeless hand in his, he allowed tears to fall from his face for the first time in his life.

* * *

_A/n: Yes, I know, I killed off Bluestreak. *dodges stuff thrown by angry mob*. This was mean to be a companion piece to a 'What if?' fic that I haven't started working on yet. But I will. Eventually._


End file.
